


set me free, then bind me more tightly still

by crookedspoon



Series: Exchange Fics [45]
Category: DC Extended Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Sharing, Felching, Gift Fic, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Spit As Lube, Switching, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 11:30:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: Bruce systematically pushed Dick and Jason away from him so he could go after Superman and not endanger them. They only notice they've been played once it's too late.The morning after they've confronted him (or tried to, anyway), Dick thinks about his relationship with Bruce and pieces together the events of last night.





	set me free, then bind me more tightly still

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).

> Hi, sorry for the late treat (or you're welcome?) :D;; I saw your letter and it had so many delicious prompts I could barely decide which way to go. I hope you find something in this that you enjoy!
> 
> Dick is underage when he first gets together with Bruce, but his age isn't mentioned and it's all rather vague, so y'all are free to decide whatever.
> 
> Many thanks to [salmonellagogo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmonellagogo/profile) for the beta! <3

Dick starts awake, sore and overheated. The thin sheet covering him is sticking to his skin, so is the one he's lying on. The sun is too bright for his north-facing, single-window bedroom and for a second he wonders if he crashed through the roof last night. A big hole in the ceiling would explain the brightness. Not to mention falling from a height would explain the dull memory of pain in his head and in his back.

He must have had a dream about it, or something. Falling without a line and nothing to break his fall is a recurring theme. The soreness in his body is decidedly not the result of plummeting onto bricks. It's too deliberate and possessive for that, finger-shaped and bite-sized, although he does remember his head hitting wooden wall panels...

He throws the covers down to his hips to cool off, but at the same time, he draws closer to the sleep-warm form beside him. Bruce is giving off heat like a radiator, and Dick's right side, the one that had been pressed against him, is slick with sweat. 

There's no nice way to say this, but they stink. Yet even stinking of sweat and sex, there's something primally soothing about Bruce's underlying scent, and every disoriented question and anxiety Dick might have had upon waking melts away as everything slots into place: he's at the manor, in Bruce's bed, and the blinds have not been drawn on the ceiling-high windows.

He huffs out a soft laugh at himself and presses a kiss to Bruce's shoulder. He feels drained, but content. He must have fucked out every bit of anger and resentment he'd been carrying around over the past few months, convinced that Bruce hated him and wanted nothing more to do with him. Dick saw it as a moral failing on his part to no longer be in B's good graces. 

("Your conduct over the past few months has shown that I cannot trust your judgment anymore."

"Excuse me? You're questioning my methods all of a sudden? What brought this on?"

"You did. The attack on the embassy..."

"I had to make a choice, Bruce, you know how it is."

"You made the wrong one."

"You think I don't know that? You think I wouldn't change everything if I had the chance of a do-over?"

"There are no do-overs in life."

"Is that what you're telling Jason, too?")

Perhaps he'd gone too far. But Dick doesn't know what Bruce approved of less: making crucial mistakes during a mission, or mentioning Jason at the wrong moment. Jason has always been a loaded gun between them, from the moment he entered both their lives. 

He had been the reason Dick had acted on his confusing crush in the first place. He knew he wanted Bruce, and he knew he didn't want to share him. He wanted to bind Bruce to him so tightly that tearing away would injure both of them. (He's gotta say, he's succeeded in that regard.)

The first time their paths crossed, Jason had still been a runner for the Maroni family. He'd been a squirt, but a ballsy one, who'd stood in Batman's way despite his trembling limbs and helped a suspect give Batman the slip. Dick hadn't paid much attention to the kid back then, so he couldn't say whether Bruce's interest in him began that day. It was only later that Dick noticed Bruce had been keeping tabs on the kid. Maybe he hadn't planned on taking him in, but instead wanted to get him into one of the many Wayne-funded youth programs out there. Maybe he'd felt responsible after taking down Maroni and thus taking away the kid's only source of safety and stability he had been able to rely on. Without Maroni's men having his back, he'd either be snatched up by another gang or made an example of by a rival crime family. So it had been safer to get him off the streets – after all, where better to hide a kid than in Wayne Manor? – and into a self-defense program named Robin training.

Anyway, that was later. Before that, there was Bruce's interest in the kid. It wasn't ostensible, but Dick grew to dislike it after a while. Every few weeks there would be another entry in his log about what the kid had been up to lately. The final straw, in Dick's mind, was when he came home triumphantly from a mugging he'd stopped all by himself, and Bruce basically ignored him in favor of updating his Jason Todd file. Not that being ignored was a new phenomenon, but Dick had never taken kindly to it. Even an actual slap in the face – which was what it felt like – would have been more welcome than the cold-shoulder treatment. At least it would have meant something. Unlike being played with and then cast aside like just another prima ballerina. Dick had been his _partner, _goddamnit.

It was that night that Dick decided to act on his feelings.

"I've been thinking," Dick led with once he was freshly showered.

Bruce was still sitting at the Batcomputer, but had moved on to reviewing the composition of the most recent Batarang alloys, while Alfred was upstairs doing whatever it was that Alfred did when he was not discreetly reprimanding Bruce for his obsessive behavior. (He had been less blunt about it in those days.)

Bruce was dressed in the suit he'd worn the day before to some event or other; he hadn't even made it home, and left instructions for Dick to patrol Gotham and for Alfred to provide backup. Their systems hadn't been as sophisticated as they are now, but they still provided ample monitoring capabilities so that Dick could observe the goings-on in a warehouse, for example, without ever needing to be close. Yet Dick wasn't as happy about being allowed to patrol on his own as he would have been just a few months earlier. He didn't approve of Bruce spending so much time with his "lady friends" (who were just flings for a couple of days anyway) and virtually no time with him out of costume. And spending time with Batman wasn't like spending time with Bruce. As Batman, he is one hundred percent focused on the mission and everything he says is either an order or a status report.

It left Dick wanting. He'd needed so much more from Bruce than a distant father figure solely focused on a war he couldn't win.

Maybe Dick had gone about it the wrong way. Maybe using his body to get Bruce's attention had been ill-advised, but by this time he'd exhausted all other options. And anyway, it seemed to work fine for Bruce's lady friends. He even spent entire evenings with them. So why not with Dick? Bruce wouldn't be able to discard him so easily afterwards, since they still had to live and work together.

Dick slipped in front of the screen and onto Bruce's lap, smoothing down Bruce's vest to give his hands something to do. Bruce started.

"I seem to notice you like your companions boyishly slim and flexible," he'd said with a coquettish smile. People had been calling him beautiful, even from a young age, so why shouldn't he make use of it? The worst thing it could do was not work on Bruce. "Does it make you think of me to be with them?"

Bruce's face remained impassive, but then again, Bruce could have a bullet extracted and never blink. "You should go."

Dick still remembers how rapidly his pulse had knocked against his ribcage as he brushed his thumb over Bruce's lips. "Not until you answer my question." The pain in his chest had been familiar. He felt it late at night after patrol, when he touched himself, Bruce's voice still ringing in his ears, barking orders. _You can go faster. I know you can take it. Stand up. Again. Again. _Again.

Dick was about to lean forward, but Bruce grabbed him by the shoulders and stopped him. He spoke Dick's name like a warning.

"If you're worried about being my first," Dick had said, smile still firmly in place, "there's no need. Schoolwork is not the only thing me and my classmates get up to when we meet."

"You're too young," Bruce said, and if Dick didn't know any better, he'd say Bruce looked almost scandalized.

"Sure, I'm old enough to get shot at every night, but I'm too young to kiss you? What sense does that make?"

Dick realizes now how desperate and childish he sounded because, well, that's what he was. He'd been so afraid of losing Bruce that he ended up pushing him further away. Bruce actively avoided him after that, sending him to boarding school and going on patrol alone. Dick had to work hard to make Bruce look at him again. But in the end, he'd needed to do nothing to get what he wanted.

Dick had been pushed off a ledge without a grapple that night, along with one other kid.

"If you're fast, you can save one of them," was the last thing Dick heard from Two-Face before the wind rushed in his ears. "Which one will you choose?"

Dick had shoved down his own sense of approaching doom to focus on the other kid. She was screaming and pedaling her arms and legs, as if that would slow its descent. Dick, on the other hand, made himself more streamlined, hoping he could somehow catch up to the kid, so that Batman didn't have to make a choice.

But he couldn't catch her. Just a little bit more, he'd thought, reaching his hands toward hers, when suddenly he stopped with a jolt and the distance between him and the girl grew and grew. Bruce had caught him, but at what price?

Perhaps that's why Dick has nightmares about falling when he's around Bruce. His failure to save the kid sits heavy in the pit of his stomach. But worse than that is the guilt he feels for having taken advantage of her death. It wasn't like Dick had been aware that that was what he'd been doing. He'd been shocked, and grieving, and he needed Bruce to be there for him.

And he was.

That night, Bruce kissed him for the first time. It was nothing more than a brush of his lips against Dick's cheek as he embraced him (crushed him to his chest, really), so grateful that Dick was still alive. And Dick, in his desperation, had clung to Bruce as if he were his salvation.

"Don't leave me tonight," Dick said, trembling with the restlessness all the adrenaline had left behind.

He'd kissed Bruce, and this time, Bruce did not stop him.

Death has a sobering effect. It puts things into perspective. And in that moment, nothing mattered but the two of them, unscathed, breathing, _alive._

They reveled in each other's bodies, the press and feel of them. Bruce was warm and heavy on top of him, and Dick loved every second they were touching, every second of Bruce taking control as well as losing it.

Later, Dick was annoyed at how unsettled and needy he had been, how he had been unable to show Bruce a better side of himself, one that was actually good at sex and made it an enjoyable experience for all parties involved. Lucky for him, it wouldn't be his last chance to prove himself. Something had changed between them, or maybe Bruce had changed. 

Maybe he had accepted the fact that they could never come back from this and revert to their old lives. Maybe he didn't even want to try.

Sex also has a transforming effect sometimes, and it transformed some aspects of their relationship. From Dick's point of view, most were for the better, while some stayed the same. Now that the tension had broken between them, he no longer had to try so hard to get Bruce's attention. He just had it. No more strutting around the manor with just a towel slung across his shoulders, because he knew Bruce would be watching the surveillance footage. Or, well, he still did that, but now it was more natural and less staged.

It freed him up in the field, too. He jumped to action much quicker because part of him was no longer occupied with trying to figure out the latest way of capturing Bruce's interest. (It turned out that Bruce was very interested in this new Dick who continued to exceed his expectations. His praise was moderate, as usual, but Dick had learned to read between the lines.)

All went well as long as they agreed on how to operate. Once they did not, this closeness of theirs became a toxic thorn in each other's sides. They both knew exactly where to twist to hurt the other most. And they made use of it plenty.

Maybe it was memories of those times, when he and Bruce had been at each other's throats and _meant _it, that blinded Dick to the manipulation he'd been subjected to in recent months. What aggravates him most is not the manipulation itself – it's classic Bruce, after all – but that he hadn't seen it.

Neither he nor Jason did, and Jason's bullshit radar is usually a lot stronger where Bruce is concerned. Or so he claims.

That son of a  
He fucking planned this

read the text message that Jason had sent him the moment the news hit, when it became clear that Bruce had been playing them both all along. Jason had tried to wave it off in the beginning – _good riddance, old man _– although he'd never been successful in convincing Dick that he didn't care. Perhaps because Dick had been projecting, or perhaps he'd been on to something. Either way, there had been frustrations they both shared, even if Jason pretended it was otherwise, and most of their frustrations' root cause was none other than Bruce.

It was how they bonded, after all. Dick had resented Jason for taking his place once he'd walked out on Bruce, but the kid kept trying to get through to him, if only to get a couple of pointers on how to make Bruce dance in line. 

("In case you hadn't noticed, kid, Bruce and I are no longer working together. That should give you enough of a clue to know that Bruce's decisions are not that easily influenced."

"I know, but you had to have some tricks up your sleeve; I mean, he'd let you do stuff like recon on your own, didn't he?" 

Sure, Dick did have aces up his sleeve, but he wasn't going to enlighten Jason on just exactly what those were.) 

In the end, it was nice to have someone to complain to about Bruce, someone who knew _exactly _what living and working with Bruce was like. Dick only had Alfred to complain to before. And while Alfred certainly had a lot to say about Bruce, he was a long-suffering man and saved his barbs for when Bruce was around to hear.

If Dick hadn't felt the strong urge to punch Bruce in the face yesterday – as no doubt Jason must have, too – he would probably sought Jason out to blow off some steam instead. There had been a lot of steam to blow off. Maybe Jason alone wouldn't have been enough, especially since there would have been no working release valve between them. The problem had been Bruce; he needed to feel their anger.

That was how Dick had arrived at the manor yesterday: seething, bitter, and looking for a fight.

In his belligerent state, he'd thrown plenty of hurtful things at Bruce's head, and the man had taken them all in stoically, as if he'd been expecting them. Knowing him, he'd probably anticipated Dick's reaction long before he even started alienating him. 

That infuriated Dick even more. He'd been so ready to come to blows, but the moment he saw how battered Bruce was, he became more upset than angry. Bruce could have died, and Dick's last words to him would have been petty things he'd been goaded into saying. Bruce must be really proud of himself.

Now, Dick is more annoyed at himself than anything. He should have been smarter than that, should have realized sooner what Bruce had been orchestrating. In hindsight, it should have been so obvious. He should have seen that it was Bruce's way of trying to protect him, even though he still didn't understand what he needed protecting from. Or why Bruce thought it was a good idea; it probably had something to do with the fact that having fewer trusted allies around meant fewer people who'd try and stop you when you're about to pull stupid stunts – like going up against Superman, of all people – as Dick and Jason would have.

For Christ's sake. _What the hell were you thinking, Bruce? _

Okay, yeah, Dick needs to stop going over it, because that path only leads to headaches and grinding teeth, which in turn lead to even more headaches. He really doesn't want to deal with his venomous thoughts again. He'd spent the better part of a year marinating in his resentments, and in butting heads with Bruce yesterday he'd felt relief for the first time in a long while.

It's going to take some time to get rid of all the anger he feels, but for now he lets it go and focuses instead on Bruce's deep, steady breathing.

Across from him, Jason is lying against Bruce's chest and staring at him through his long lashes. The position makes him look smaller than he is, almost child-like, although nothing about Jason has ever been child-like, even when he was an actual kid. Except for his petulance, maybe. He's always been more of an annoying brat than anything approaching innocence.

"You're still here," Dick whispers with a soft smiles and runs his fingers over Jason's arm.

Jason stares at him harder, and Dick can't decide whether he's jealously guarding Bruce, or whether it's something else. 

"I didn't tell you yesterday," Dick continues, as his fingers crest Jason's shoulder and move on to his cheek, "but I'm happy to see you."

Jason lets out a breath that could be either a scoff or a laugh, but the grin he shoots Dick is unmistakably cocky. "After the greeting I gave you, I expect no less."

Dick grins back. "You really know how to make a guy feel appreciated." 

Dick's fight with Bruce had quickly devolved into desperate groping, and instead of tearing Bruce a new one, as Dick had intended, they both tore into each other, hands and teeth and all, celebrating the fact that Bruce was still breathing. (It's how Dick hit his head against the wall panels; they'd been a bit too enthusiastic about the whole grinding together part.)

Jason had walked in just as their performance was nearing its end. By this time, the stage had become the dining room table over which Bruce had been fucking Dick.

Dick can't describe how good it felt to have Bruce pounding into him again. He had missed the scent and feel of him, the way his stubble would scratch over Dick's cheeks and lips, the way his fingers would dig into his skin and leave bruises he could admire even days later.

Perhaps Bruce was thinking of something similar, because neither of them lasted very long. Bruce finished inside Dick with a deep, guttural groan, and left him a mess of trembling limbs.

It was only then that Dick noticed they had company. It was as if Jason had waited for that precise moment to appear. A part of Dick was alarmed, because Jason hadn't yet had the fight he came here for, but at the same time, Dick was too exhausted to leap between him and Bruce if the situation called for it. (He would if it did, but until then he'd watch the scene unfold.)

The first thing Jason did – that is, the first thing after fixing Bruce with a glare that said 'I'm not talking to you, old man' better than words could have – was sink to his knees between Dick's thighs. He spread him apart and dug in as though he were a starving man and Dick the first meal he'd seen in weeks. Dick gasped. He'd wanted to call Jason's name, tell him to stop, to give him a break, or to fucking keep going, he didn't really know. All he knew was that it was too soon to be fucked again. But for Jason, he'd make an exception.

Overstimulated as he was, Dick could do nothing but writhe and scrabble his fingers over Jason's scalp as Jason ate him out like he had all the time in the world. He probably wanted Bruce to enjoy the show as well. 

Jason really went to town on him, spearing Dick with his tongue and sucking at the rim. Dick was shaking and possibly ruby red by the time Jason was slurping Bruce's come out of his ass. He was also hard again, although he hadn't noticed it until he looked down at Jason through misty eyes and saw his own cock straining against his stomach, flushed and leaking. Jason gazed up at him with blue eyes sharper than the knives he carries and ran his palm over Dick's erection. Dick closed his eyes and moaned. It was too much. He couldn't—

And then it was gone. 

One moment Dick was riding an unimaginable high, the next he was left to crash as Jason moved on to Bruce. 

Bruce had been sitting on one of the high-backed oak chairs that surround the dining room table, catching his breath and watching them with eyes like smoldering coals. He'd tucked himself away again and was emanating an aura of collectedness, but his wild hair and his bruised lips called that image into question. Jason towered over him, fisting Bruce's hair and forcing his head back, and for a moment Dick thought he was going to spit on Bruce.

But then he slid onto Bruce's lap and crushed their lips together.

Bruce's eyes widened when Jason must have shoved his tongue into his mouth. It was only for a moment, then his lids lowered again and he grasped Jason's hips to pull him closer.

Jason, however, would have none of that.

"Nuh-uh," he said and stood up, his gloved fingers still twisted into Bruce's graying hair. "Your turn, old man. You owe us."

Dick was surprised to see Bruce yield so easily; he must have felt the truth about Jason's words.

Jason pushed Bruce face-down next to Dick and Dick, who had been supporting himself on his elbows, grinned down at him. It wasn't every day that they all came together like this. Dick really enjoyed watching them, because for all of Jason's prickly exterior, he could be an incredibly considerate lover.

Yet he wasn't about to be considerate with Bruce. Not then, at least. To him, this was supposed to be a bit of a punishment.

He pushed Bruce's pressed slacks down to his thighs and his shirt up his back to expose his ass. The lower end of a dark contusion was peeking out from underneath the fabric, yet Bruce did not let on if he was in pain. Jason smacked Bruce's right cheek once and Dick loved the way Bruce's strong muscles jumped upon impact. Jason grabbed both cheeks and massaged them for a moment, before he bent down and spread them apart.

Dick's cock _throbbed _when Jason spat against Bruce's hole. He worked the spit in with his gloved fingers, and the ruthlessness of the gesture made Dick's mouth run dry.

Bruce said nothing in protest, he just breathed through his clenched jaw.

With his free hand, Jason undid his zipper and took out his engorged cock. The head of it was of an even darker red than Dick's, and it was shiny with precome. Dick sat up, and he had to grip the edge of the table to keep himself from slipping off it and onto his knees. He wanted to see where this was heading.

Jason saw him lick his lips, though. He just grinned and rubbed his cock against Bruce's hole, as if waiting for Bruce to back out at the last moment. When Bruce gave no indication either way, Jason pushed in.

Dick felt privileged to be allowed to witness them. They were both so beautiful. Jason's eyes fell shut and he moaned deeply as he entered Bruce. Dick scooted back to brush Bruce's hair out of his eyes. There was a deep crease between his eyebrows as Bruce frowned, his tight jaw slowly growing slack as he accepted Jason into his body.

"That's right. Take it, old man," Jason said once he'd sufficiently collected himself again. "Take it up your tight fuckhole. It's mine tonight, just so you know. And I'm going to wreck it. Because you deserve nothing less."

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut. He did not struggle. Jason kept Bruce's hips steady just in case, his black-gloved hands stark against Bruce's white skin, like a symbol on a banner of some sort. His eyes were focused on Dick, however. More precisely, on Dick's cock that Dick was absently stroking.

"Suck him off," Jason commanded and slapped Bruce's ass again.

Bruce's eyes were dark and needy when he opened them again, and he braced himself on the table. Dick helped him take some of the strain off by cradling his head in his hands and rubbing his cock against Bruce's mouth. It was a bit difficult to coordinate, because he was still sitting on the table, but the moment Bruce's lips closed around the tip, all thoughts of difficulty or anything else flew right out the window. There was only the slick heat of Bruce's mouth.

Dick felt like he was melting inside, like caramel in the sun. Heat suffused him although he was the least dressed person in the room. Jason's gaze not only added to the sensation, but amplified it. Dick found himself swimming in it, pleasure and warmth swirling through him, until—

"Wanna take over?" Jason asked all of a sudden.

Dick snapped back to the present blearily, still cradling Bruce's head and threading his fingers through his hair.

"Sorry," Jason said, at odds with the persona of a strong leader he'd been conveying until now. Dick's confusion must have been plain on his face. "I was so into watching you, I got ahead of myself."

Dick looked down at Bruce bobbing up and down on his cock, then at Jason's hips that were leisurely thrusting into Bruce. He swallowed. He would be loath to leave Bruce's gorgeous mouth, but at the same time, he'd love to hear Bruce enjoy this. Or not enjoy it, depending on whether he agreed that it was supposed to be a punishment.

"I don't think I can stand," he said truthfully. Bruce had rendered his legs essentially useless. "Not long enough, I mean."

"I got you."

Jason pulled out and took a step toward Dick, cock twitching enticingly as he did so. He reached out to support Dick's arms and Dick shifted forward to slide into Jason's. He sucked in a sharp breath when their cocks brushed against one another. If Bruce wasn't spread out on the table like a delicious treat, Dick might have hooked his legs around Jason's hips and pulled him back into the table so they could grind against each other.

Walking proved difficult. As long as Dick kept his knees locked up, he was fine, but as soon as he bent them, he ran the risk of them giving way. But Jason was true to his word. He held Dick up and secured him, hot erection pressing into Dick's hip. It was maddeningly distracting. Bruce may have looked even more delicious from this angle but with Jason holding him close, it was easy to lose sight of what he'd wanted to do.

He didn't lose it for long. Bruce's muscular backside was clenching down on nothing, eager to be filled again, and Dick was only too happy to comply. Bruce never once looked over his shoulder, as though looking back at them was acknowledging his part in this and would break his resolve not to beg.

Dick was seeing stars as soon as he pushed inside. Bruce was clutching him so tightly, Dick thought he was going to pass out. He had to remind himself to breathe. And Jason was right behind him, murmuring encouragements against his scalp. It was already too much, the pleasure Bruce's body was wringing out of Dick, mingling with the heat Jason was providing, but Dick had a history of not being sensible when he wanted things. Especially if he wanted them as desperately as he wanted Jason.

"Fuck me, Little Wing," he pleaded and reached behind himself, as though hoping a simple touch would sway him.

"You're a greedy little shit, Grayson." He said it with a grin in his voice and nipped at Dick's neck, but he did not spurn Dick's request. Dick felt his thick cock nudging its way between his cheeks.

The ecstasy was complete when Jason penetrated him. Dick moaned loudly and let his head fall back against Jason's shoulder, baring his neck. As if Jason had understood it as an invitation, he wrapped his hand around it. He squeezed thumb and forefinger against Dick's carotids on either side of his throat, cutting off the oxygen supply to Dick's brain. Dick was already growing light-headed.

"Mmh, you're nice and wet already," Jason hummed against Dick's neck. He bit down at the same time as he released his carotids and a pulse of delicious pain _rolled _through him, sparking from synapse to synapse until all of his nerve endings were on fire. He suddenly felt bigger inside Bruce, or Bruce tighter around him, just as Jason felt bigger inside Dick. He could feel every throb and every twitch, and all he wanted was to be taken apart.

Jason continued lightly choking Dick, applying and releasing pressure to his throat at odd intervals, as he eased his cock in and out Dick at the same time. Dick gasped and gasped, eyes rolling into the back of his head, and he succumbed to the delirious pleasure Jason was introducing him to.

They must have ended up in bed eventually, but Dick doesn't remember any of that. All he remembers is Jason's hands on him, pinching and clutching and digging bruises into his skin, and his own hands on Bruce, holding on and holding him together.

Dick stretches, long and luxuriously, feeling the protest in every sore muscle. He itches in the most unholy of places and he'd really love a hot bath. But he also really, really wants to be hugged. Occasionally he likes being the small spoon.

"Heads up," he says and rolls over Bruce onto Jason.

"Oof, you're heavy," Jason complains, but grudgingly receives Dick in his arms anyway.

"Morning, handsome." Dick smiles and pecks Jason's lips. Despite the stale sweat clinging to him, he still smells cleanest of them all.

"Morning, yourself," Jason rumbles and lets his hands travel down Dick's back to his ass.

Dick breathes a soft moan before Jason has even done anything. He's not sure if he wants him to do anything – not until he's had a shower, anyway, but his hips roll against Jason's on their own accord.

Jason's head thuds onto the pillow. "Already horny again, lover boy?"

"Must be the company," Dick says and kisses Jason again. 

This time, Jason kisses back. The next thing Dick knows, he's on his back, with Jason pressing him into the mattress. Dick's eyelids flutter. He enjoys Jason's warm weight on top of him just as much as he enjoys Bruce's. To think this kid had once been smaller than he was...

Speaking of Bruce, the man had no doubt been roused by their rolling around. He gazes at them with a smolder that Dick could almost feel on his skin. The shadows underneath his eyes are more prominent than usual; he looks utterly exhausted but there's a faint undercurrent of contentment. It's better than his usual guilt he wears like a cape, or a shroud.

"Bruce," Dick says and lifts his arm towards him. He had wanted to touch his face, but the angle makes it awkward, so Bruce meets him halfway and kisses the back of his hand. "Morning."

"Up already?" Jason cuts in. "It's not even five in the afternoon yet. Alfred hasn't come nagging."

"I doubt Alfred will want to encounter all of us together in our state of undress."

Jason scoffs. "Just say he doesn't want the reminder that we're fucking."

"Don't be crude," Dick says and pulls Jason's ear. It's reassuring that despite everything that happens between them, they still fall easily into their familiar banter. Maybe it's a performance for Bruce's benefit, the two of them behaving more like brothers in front of him than they ever were to each other; Bruce had always wanted them to be closer, although he likely never meant this close.

"What? It's true."

"For the record, I don't want Alfred walking in either while you're on top of me."

"Would it make you feel better if _you _were on top?" Jason's grin is devilish, and devilishly handsome. Dick finds himself blushing.

"That's not the point. But yes, maybe it would. At least I can be certain _I _won't stare him straight in the face while grinding down against you."

"Coward."

"Bruce, tell him to leave Alfred alone."

"What makes you think I'd listen to him, huh?"

Their bickering seems to have the effect on Bruce Dick had hoped it would: the tiniest of fond smiles creeps through a crack in Bruce's mask.

There are no words to express how glad he is that they're all together like this again, but since Bruce won't express the same sentiment even if he feels it, Dick will have to find a way to do it for him.

He shifts out from under Jason to cup Bruce's face in both hands and kiss him. His body is littered with bruises in varying shades from purple to green and only the smallest part of those have been inflicted by their hands or mouths. It scares Dick sometimes what Bruce still puts himself through. It scares him, because these bruises are a reminder that he's not invulnerable. Superman could have so easily crushed him underfoot.

"Promise me you won't do anything so stupid ever again."

Jason huffs a laugh. "He's Batman. Stupid is kinda part of the brand."

"You will have to keep an eye on me," Bruce says and it's as much of a promise as Dick will get out of him.

"As long as you don't push us away again, we might even be able to."

Bruce is quiet for a moment, before he rejoins, "How would you like working together again?"

"Working together, as in you ordering our asses around and punishing us with broody silences if we don't measure up to your impossible standard?" Jason asks. "This has been fun and all, but I'll pass."

Dick covers Jason's mouth with his palm, hopeful and curious. Jason bites him. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'm looking for some people. Metahumans. I believe they are going to be important in the future. Against some future threat. I was prepared to look for them myself, but together, I'm sure we can find them faster."

"I'm in and Jason is, too."

"Don't presume to speak for me, Goldie, just because you want to score points with daddy."

"You don't have to decide now," Bruce says. "The offer stands. Your help would be very much appreciated."

"Dear God, Bruce. Don't fall over yourself to beg me to help you." Jason scrubs his hands over his face. "Tell us more and I'll think about it after I've had a shower and some breakfast. You two are simply too much for me this early in the day."

"I'm seconding the shower," Dick adds. "Race you," he says and jumps out of the bed. He has a bit of a disadvantage because he's lying in the middle, tucked under the sheets – and honestly, it was a mistake to move this quickly because pain shoots through his backside – but he still makes it into the bathroom before Jason. Maybe because Jason hadn't been too keen on racing. He makes up for it by being very keen on pressing Dick against the cold shower tiles before turning on the spray.

Dick would be lying if he said he hadn't missed being together with both Bruce and Jason. The circumstances that brought them together could have been more auspicious ones, but for some reason, make-up sex to work through their differences always rekindles his former passion and makes him giddy with it, almost like a newlywed. He hopes working together can repair some of the damage done, and that it won't dash their current truce to pieces.

In any case, he is going to hoard precious moments like these, when everything seems okay between them, at least for a while, like a squirrel preparing for winter. A falling out between them is almost as inevitable as rainfall, but knowing they have weathered worse storms before makes him look toward the future with the conviction that they can do it again.

It's what he's counting on. What he has to count on.

However aggravating either Bruce or Jason – or even Alfred – can be, Dick wants to lose none of them. Can't. It would be like losing a part of himself. So he's always going to show up when there are repairs to be made. Because his family is worth all that and so much more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I am going to stop here because if I write the shower sex that I set out to write this would not have been finished before author reveals. This already got 4k longer than expected. Hope they were worth it at least.
> 
> The title is from Homer's [_Odyssey_](http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0012.tlg002.perseus-eng2:12.4-12.4) (book 12, card 4 or, lines 163-4: εἰ δέ κε λίσσωμαι ὑμέας λῦσαί τε κελεύω, ὑμεῖς δὲ πλεόνεσσι τότ’ ἐν δεσμοῖσι πιέζειν - If I beg and pray you to set me free, then bind me more tightly still.).


End file.
